Wiped Clean (Being Rewritten)
by scarletvoid
Summary: Years after the massacre, Sasuke finally faces Itachi again, but upon his escape, ends up with more questions than answers. There is conspiracy lurking in the dark, and slowly, through many encounters, Sasuke realises that Itachi's hands aren't as blood-stained as he'd thought. Gen, AU, told through snippets. Chapters 1&2 rewritten, more to come.
1. One

edited 24/09/19

1.

He tastes warm rust gushing from his gums, pooling in his mouth. It dribbles down his chin, it's path unburdened—unstoppable.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

Sasuke draws in a deep, shuddering breath. The sleek wood of the hallway floor is unforgivingly cold against his hands. His arms quiver weakly under his weight as he heaves himself up onto his aching knees.

He looks up; a nightmare stares back at him.

"The sharingan..." he said with a searching gaze. His face remained blank—bleak. He'd cut his hair above his shoulders. Sasuke remembered it being inky and long, always tied with a black ribbon at the back of his neck. As a child he'd considered growing out his hair just like his brother. "–and two tomoe now? Disappointing. I had three by the time I was your age."

Goosebumps shot up the skin of his arms. Age-old hurt swirled in his belly, buried beneath a monstrous, churning rage. He ground his teeth to cage a wild, irate scream.

 _Disappointing_ , he said, like he was expecting Sasuke be just like him.

 _Disappointing_ , he said, like he didn't _murder_ their _whole_ family, their _whole_ clan—

(—"Yes, you remember the Uchiha from the branch family, Shisui, I believe? He and the heir were good friends, Shisui had been ANBU—"

"—I heard that the heir, Itachi, had murdered his friend Shisui to get stronger—whatever that means."

"—Like me, you might be able to use the true strength of the Uchiha Clan—the Mangekyō Sharingan. But there's a catch."

Blood stains his pale skin scarlet—the blood of their family, and he wears it like it was an accomplishment; a victory. "Take the life of your best friend. You must kill them.")

There is orange, on the edge of his vision. The 'eye-burning, too-bright, too-saturated' kind. A few steps away from Itachi, Naruto is sprawled on the ground out cold, deep breaths forcing his chest up and down— _alive, still alive_ —and his eyes are closed.

And Itachi had said— _disappointing_ , like taking Naruto's life was something so very small.

"Good," Sasuke says, with a wheezing, spiteful laugh. "I won't be like you."

His fingers tremble with something like desperation. He curls his hands into tight, angry fists.

I won't kill my teammate for _power_ , he doesn't say.

(—"Not enough hatred, little brother." The moon is _dripping blood_.—)

"You won't?" For the first time since before the massacre of his clan, he saw that smile. That smile Itachi used to give him when he said something, as if amused, as if he knew something Sasuke didn't. It seemed a little different now—more grim. "I suppose you're right."

Slowly, eerily, Itachi looks down at the limp, _young_ , blond boy in the door frame. Sasuke feels his whole body lock up.

"Your hatred is wavering," he says, voice soft. "Perhaps some motivation will put it back on the right path?" He takes one step, then another, his footfalls near-silent, even in the quiet of the hall.

"Itachi," someone says, simply—warningly. Sasuke's head snapped left, where a blue skinned man—Kisame, he'd said before—leans uncaringly against the wall, resting an elbow on the handle of a huge, hulking, scaly sword.

Itachi only spares him a glance, blank-faced as ever, but it makes the Kiri-nin relax, a grunt escaping his throat. He makes a waving gesture with his hand, as if to say "carry on, carry on."

And then Itachi is moving again—slow, in that apathetically threatening way of his—and a yell forces it's way out of Sasuke's throat.

"Don't!" he screams, guttural and desperate, like an animal on it's last leg, "Don't touch him, I'll kill you!"

The threat falls short, when Itachi looks back at him and examines him on the ground, bloody, bruised, paralyzed from his injuries. What a sight he must make, heart thundering through his ears, his nails clawing at the ground, teeth bared in a snarl.

Itachi only shakes his head, with _disappointment_. "Foolish little brother. Empty words won't save him."

His breath catches in his throat, held there by the grasp of his panic. Naruto's chest moves, slow, mechanical, routinely—up, down, up, down. And he can see it clearly—that if Itachi takes one step, then another, it will be still, cold, a routine frozen forever.

He calls for his chakra, depleted as it is, forcing the burning, writhing power to his hands to form a last, feeble chidori. It fizzes out in his hands, the spark diminishing to a barely audible cackle, and his chest is tightening, a desperate noise frozen in his throat.

 _No_ , he thinks, watching Itachi, who in turn watches him, body half-turned towards Naruto.

Naruto. His teammate. His _friend_.

His shoulder begins to burn, chakra searing through him, branding him like hot iron. There is a laugh, a shudder of scales, a snake with a poisoned chalice. I can help you, it says, we can kill him. Then the power leaves him, like leaves ripped from a tree, like a flower stripped of it's petals.

Watching him still, Itachi takes a step.

A breath away from Naruto.

Phantom grief spreads through his chest—blond hair streaked with blood, wide empty blue eyes, a still, still chest—and Sasuke reaches out, fire burning through him like hot lava, thinks, _you will not take him from me_.

Black spreads out, crooning, drawing him in like a predator to a bird, and the mark on his neck flares to life.


	2. Two - Interlude

edited 25/09/19

2\. interlude

* * *

Trembling, cold, in terror.

.

A child,

He lay there.

Silently, invisibly.

.

To blend in?

Perhaps to hide from the truth of reality…

.

He lay there.

Translucent.

Cold.

A ghost.

.

Vision? A tunnel.

Blind,

He waits.

.

And outside?

Reality laughs.

A crow takes flight.

.

Life goes on—

* * *

It is no dream, he finds.

The walls are clean. He's never seen them so white. It's not anything he would've paid attention to, before. There hadn't really been any reason to.

They replace the carpet.

To Sasuke, his surroundings are no less bloody.

He feels grief tighten his heart, feels the phantom touch of a soft hand through his hair, curling on his nape. Safety, ripped away.

How can one ever feel safe in a place like this, where countless were slaughtered?

 _How_ , he thinks, but cannot bear to leave.

Memories line the walls. Pictures. Shards of a broken dream. Soft, warm eyes, crinkled with smile lines. A stern mouth. A gentle embrace. A kind shadow at his shoulder.

He would always pass those pictures without a glance. Now, he can't bear to look away.

It's quiet. Too quiet. There is no presence.

He sets the table. Forgets that he needs only enough for one. Stares unblinkingly at four plates, sitting empty.

There are too many plates in the cupboards, too much empty room on the dining table. Too much area for one person.

Overbearing, it is; the guilt of survival.

Here, inside, there are frozen ghosts, gazing aimlessly into the beyond.

And yet, outside...

He hears birds chirping, cooing, the flap of a fragile wing beat. Hears the wind sing so loud it rattles the frames of the windows.

Inside, Sasuke sits among four plates, and drinks deep from a lie.


	3. Three

3\. Cursed

* * *

 _The mark on his neck flared to life._

Sasuke's efforts were met with a brief flash of pain. He could feel his remaining chakra swirling around his body, and another foreign power clawing at his own, devouring it like a viciously hungry tiger. He opened blurry eyes to watch as something dark slithered across his skin, flickering like fire, pooling like ink.

Had this happened, the last time? If it did, he hadn't noticed, he realised through the haze of pain. Reaching up, he clutched the fabric the lay on his aching neck - right where the mark sat - and tore it right off, exposing it to the cool air and settling the stinging by just a fraction.

He kept his eyes on Itachi, who had frozen a step away from Naruto, watching him with a still face, eyes flickering towards his mark. And then Sasuke sprang.

With the extra boost, it was as if Sasuke's skills had tripled. If he'd thought he was fast before, he was definitely near Rock Lee's level now. That information in mind, Sasuke's confidence grew as he neared his older brother in the blink of an eye.

That confidence was quickly crushed when Itachi caught him by the neck with one hand - easily too, like he had just caught a blunt kunai rather than a person. Sasuke yowled like an angry cat, clawing at the rough hand at his throat. He struck up with his leg - towards Itachi's shoulder, and was quickly evaded with the older Uchiha's free hand.

Itachi narrowed his eyes, giving him that scolding look he had given him as a child. "That's cute, Sasuke-chan," he said. Quick as lighting, he jut out a finger of his free hand and poked Sasuke in the forehead.

( _Itachi shook his head with a hint of a smile. "Foolish little brother," he said amusedly, poking Sasuke in the forehead lightly._

 _Sasuke, at the ripe age of five, laughed a child's laugh and slapped the hand away.)_

For a second, nothing happened, and then Sasuke's throat was ripped out of Itachi's hand and he crashed through the wall and into a random, empty hotel room as if he'd been hit with a sledgehammer.

His back smashed through the wooden coffee table, his head cracking against the wooden floor. For a second, his vision swam, but then he felt the foreign chakra spike, and his eyesight cleared in the blink of an eye. Ignoring the stabbing sensations throughout his back, he scrambled to his knees - but it was already too late.

Metal touched his skin, the temperature biting against warm flesh, but his brother's grip was slack.

Itachi hovered over him, kunai against Sasuke's neck - pressing into the skin right where his vein was - staring down at him with a look of intense scrutiny. "What's this?" he wondered airily, voice flat. "This is… Orochimaru's cursed mark? How fascinating. It seems that after his advances towards me failed and he ran like a coward, he turned to you."

Sasuke tensed, eyeing Itachi with a new wariness. He'd always known his brother was strong, but to chase off a sannin? He was on a whole other level. There was no way he could beat him - he'd even dodged Sasuke's Chidori. But Naruto… how could Sasuke save him from both Itachi _and_ Kisame?

"You know, distracting a man with a gorgeous woman is absolutely the best idea ever - that is, if you're not trying to kill the genin under his wing." A loud voice boomed.

As it turns out, Sasuke didn't even have to.


	4. Four - Interlude

4.

Sasuke's thoughts - Interlude

* * *

There was a time when Sasuke had been more hurt and confused than angry. That was a time where he spent most of the time in a hospital bed, eyes rimmed with water and redness and chest seizing with a pain he'd never felt before. But there was an emptiness, too, and during that time all he wanted to do was curl in his mother's arms, clutch her hair between his fingers and cry.

No amount of nurses, ANBU bodyguards, chocolates or get-well cards could substitute the loneliness Sasuke felt that first month.

And what was even more wrong was the fact that Sasuke would do anything, give anything, just to see his father's frown, his sharp eyes and his mother's wrath, even if those were the characteristics he'd always thought were their scariest traits.

It was even more wrong to realise that even if Sasuke would do anything - give anything, nothing would ever be able to truly bring them back to him.

In the end, Sasuke knew that when he would go back to the compound, there would be no laughter, no respectful nods or encouraging smiles. He knew that Itachi would not be there to walk him to their door. He knew that his mother would not greet him with a gentle smile, that she would not caress his cheek with dainty fingers. He knew that his father would not whisk him off to train with his strong voice and narrow, steel eyes.

There was a time; a time where it was the beginning of a life of loneliness, pain, and hardship, and Sasuke was already exhausted.


	5. Five

5. Bottom Line

* * *

"Hey, gaki," the white-haired man said roughly, setting a calming hand on Sasuke's shaking shoulder. "Calm down - fight's over."

Sasuke turned his cheek to stare at the man, shaken, and silently thankful that he was there to save them. His reassuring words didn't help, however. Sasuke could feel his hands quivering, his nerves still wrung with fear. Fear, not only for himself, but for Naruto as well.

The glance Itachi had given him before he fled had been filled with promise. It would have been useful, only Sasuke had no idea what Itachi was promising him and this caused him to be even more on edge than before. Was this a promise of death? Was it a promise that their battle will continue at a later date, preferably when Sasuke is stronger? Was it a promise that next time, Itachi won't play around and will instead end Naruto swiftly?

Why had Itachi wanted the blond in the first place, anyway?

He glanced at the boy in question, who was thrown over Jiraiya's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, jaw hanging limply from his mouth and dribbling saliva onto the road in a trail of spit. Sasuke grimaced.

Sasuke wanted to believe that it was because of him, that Naruto was in danger because of him - that way, it could be changed, if only Sasuke somehow expressed how little he cared about Naruto, even if it wasn't the case - it would keep him safe. However, that illusion was shattered when Itachi's partner, S-class missing-nin Kisame Hoshigaki, expressed the necessity to capture to the blond, not for Itachi, but for their mission.

This put his teammate in even more danger than before. Not only is Naruto targeted for capture - to be left alive until a certain time - but also there was the fact that they had no idea what they wanted him for, or who _they_ really are, aside from his brother and Kisame.

"Sasuke," the white-haired sannin said with surprising sternness, after accepting a scroll from a small frog that seemed to pop out of nowhere. "Gai is coming to pick you up and take you back to Konoha. He'll be here shortly. I need you to report what happened here to him, and Kakashi, when you see them. They'll know who to take the information to."

"What about Naruto?" Sasuke asked.

"We're going on a little trip," he replied. "We're getting Tsunade. She's been chosen for the position of Godaime Hokage. But, don't tell anyone about that yet, would you?" The older man shot him a wink full of mischief. "I can't wait - she's got the biggest —" he made a strange noise, pulling one hand to his chest and squeezing the air.

Sasuke pulled a face. "Hn."

In the distance, the sound of over-enthusiastic tree jumping could be heard. "Yosh! I have made it in record time! To reward myself, I will do four-hundred laps around Konoha the moment I arrive!"

Jiraiya looked at his watch-less wrist. "Wow, would you look at the time? I'm on a pretty tight schedule, you know, gaki, with finding Tsunade-hime…" He laughed uproariously and took off, Naruto's head swinging from his shoulder like a rag doll.

Turning, Sasuke was punished with the sight of green spandex, bushy eyebrows and shiny hair.

He dragged a hand down his face and grunted.


	6. Six - Interlude

6.

Sasuke's thoughts - Interlude

* * *

After the massacre, and a day after Sasuke was released from the hospital, Sasuke woke up, still deeply exhausted and unconsciously forgetting all about said massacre in his auto-pilot state. He'd stretched, smiled, taken a shower and darted out to greet his big brother, his mother, and his father, but stopped short upon hearing the silence and seeing the hallway - the hallway with grotesque stains that hadn't been there before, and then he remembered.

Everything came back at once in a rush of pain to his temples, and he staggered, remembering the bodies of his family and clan skewed about like messy, rushed decorations, their expressions frozen in betrayal, horror and shock, most of them had blood staining the floorboards, some the soil, and others the concrete. And he remembered his brother, standing over his parent's dead bodies, katana soaked with their blood, expression withdrawn, calculating. Finally, Sasuke remembered looking into his brother's eyes, remembered seeing his sharingan eyes swirl into a strange triangular shape, and then he was somewhere red, chained to wood and his brother… _No!_ He clutched his head as a stabbing sensation spread through his brain.

It was like losing them all again, all at once, in one sudden, forceful and powerful punch to the heart.

Horribly shaken, Sasuke fell to his knees and vomited. His body shook, quivering against the wooden floor without restraint. The bile burnt his throat as if it were liquid fire, and his clammy hands clenched. Stubborn tears escaped his shut eyes, dripping from his chin and mixing with the vomit on the floor. He almost expected his mother to pull his hair back gently and rub his back with those dainty hands of hers, but was then reminded of the fact she was dead - once again.

He skipped the academy that day. He spent the next ten hours changing around the furniture of each room - except Itachi's - so that he would realise that it wasn't a dream when he awoke.

Despite this, there were some days where Sasuke would expect his family to be there - like things were normal. One day, around a year after the event, he'd woken up and barged into Itachi's room, cheerful greeting on his lips, only to find the room covered with dust, and messy from obviously being searched by ANBU after _it_ had happened.

There were other, small mistakes too, like when he was setting the table to eat; more than once, he'd found himself grabbing four plates instead of one.

Sometimes, he thinks that those were the instances that really screwed him up more.

It's not like his parents were alive to tell him otherwise, anyway.


	7. Seven

7\. Faults

* * *

Sasuke has never been a patient person. But, in his opinion at least, he'd been patient over the last year that lead up to his graduation. He'd known a jonin-sensei would help him get stronger than he would on his own. On the bright side, Kakashi Hatake is a elite jonin and the last living student of the Yondaime Hokage. On the not-so-bright-side, Kakashi Hatake is notoriously lazy and late. The man only taught them things if they are up against a dangerous, life-threatening enemy. And now, the man was in hospital for an unknown amount of time.

Sasuke's patience is wearing thin. He wants, no — needs to get stronger.

The solution dawns on him as he catches a glimpse of Yamanaka Ino — or rather, who towered over her. He is a rather tanned beefy ninja, with a full beard and a cigarette hanging from the left side of his mouth. His hair is spiky and dark and _almost_ resembled Kakashi's in shape, and his eyes from what he can see, nearly matched the colour of his hair.

But what really catches Sasuke's attention, was the Sarutobi clan insignia stitched to the thigh of his shinobi pants.

 _Asuma Sarutobi, the Hokage's son,_ he acknowledges. _He will train me_.

Unfortunately, it did not go as planned once he'd finally gotten the jonin alone.

"I want you to train me," he says.

"Oh?" Asuma raises an eyebrow with a grin. "Why should I?"

For a moment, Sasuke is struck dumb. He blinks, not really sure how to answer. And yet, he hadn't really thought it out, had he? It was almost embarrassing as Sasuke realised his desperation to get strong had swept all other plans out of mind.

"So I can get stronger," he replies blankly — awkwardly. "I need to kill a certain man."

"No. Tell me what you can offer me as a student — tell me your talents."

"I have a lightning affinity. I have my," he blinks and the colour of his eyes shift from a charcoal shade of grey to blazing blood red, "-sharingan."

Asuma's expression tightens. "If you were to train with me, I wouldn't allow you to use your sharingan until much later," he says.

Sasuke's eyes narrow. "No deal. It's my bloodline."

"Take away your bloodline ability, and what do you have left?" he asks with an expression hard like stone. "While you were rookie of the year, you have average abilities compared to a higher classed shinobi. If you fought against one you'd be dead within the first ten seconds even if you used your sharingan." Offended, Sasuke opens his mouth to argue, but is immediately cut off. "Why? Because your sharingan does _not_ make your skill level on par with theirs."

Hands clenching in anger, Sasuke whirls around and starts to walk away. "Whatever. I didn't come here to be criticised. If you aren't going to train me, I'll just find someone _better_ who will," he sneers.

Laughter clouds the air like smoke — the sound harsh, almost mocking. "Nobody's going to train you with that sort of attitude, gaki," he replies, voice almost amused. It felt uncomfortably degrading to Sasuke. It was like the older man was taunting him in a way a man would taunt an overdramatic little girl having a pointless tantrum.

He stops and turns to shoot a glare, but Asuma continues, unfazed. "If you don't want to listen to what you're doing wrong, you'll never be able to get stronger. What kind of sensei would want a student who wouldn't be able to see his faults and correct them in order to grow?"

"That's _different_ ," he spits, tone laced with an edge as sharp as a kunai. "You haven't done anything but tell me how weak I'd be against a higher level shinobi. How the hell is that going to help me?"

"Geez," Asuma shakes his head in disbelief. "And you're part of Kakashi's genin team? Has he not taught you guys to look _'underneath the underneath'_ or whatever or are you just oblivious?"

Sasuke crosses his arms over his chest, scowls, and doesn't say a word.

"The latter, then," he snorts. "Alright, I'll spell it out for you — your sharingan is a _tool_. It's a trump card. Stop relying on it so much." He picks the finished cigarette out of his mouth, flicks it on the ground and stomps on it with his sandal. "Get your basics down first before you tackle the big stuff. Train up your speed and strength. Get your chakra reserves and chakra control up to scratch. Use your sharingan to learn two jutsu a week and practice to get used to them. Once you've gotten all that done I'm sure Kakashi will agree to teach you stronger techniques."

The Uchiha thinks back to when he fought Rock Lee — the other boy had been much faster, much stronger than him. He'd definitely take that advice. He grudgingly accepts that his chakra reserves could use some work if Naruto, _the dobe_ , had bigger reserves than him. The same went for chakra control and Sakura.

Though, he really doubts Kakashi would teach him _anything_ unless he somehow falls into a life or death situation.

"In fact," Asuma continues without missing a beat, "Gai, while… _enthusiastic_ , he is the jonin who'd be able to help you with the speed and strength area the most. He's the taijutsu master. Go ask him for some help."

Sasuke blanches, face turning a chalky white as he remembered the jonin-sensei with bushy eyebrows and green spandex.

He wants to argue, he really does, but Asuma leaves him no choice when he bursts into booming laughter and vanishes in a cloud of smoke.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sasuke sighs. The _things_ he does for power.


	8. Eight! I'm Back!

Hey everyone! It's been a long time, huh? Sorry! I've been really busy.

Just wanted to let you know, I've looked through this story and remembered how much I loved writing it. Looking through it now, though, I think I can do a lot better-so, I've decided to edit everything and continue.

Chapter one has been re-done. Watch out for the other chapters, I'll be doing them soon.

Thanks!


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